Bitten
by Lament
Summary: Dr. Beckett makes a discovery after McKay is attacked by an alien. McKay-Sheppard slash.


Title: Bitten

Disclaimer: No, they're still not mine. Not making a dime.

Author's Notes: This is from McKay/Sheppard slash, but it's from Beckett's POV. It assumes an established relationship that no one but McKay and Sheppard know about.

Warnings: Slash.

Spoilers: None.

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"Now just hold still," I say. When Rodney starts to fidget, I hold up one finger and repeat, "Hold still."

Rodney lets out a breath. "Are we almost done, Doctor?"

As I tape a piece of gauze over the place where I withdrew his blood, I glance up at Rodney. Honestly. The man has the patience a seven-year old boy. "We've only just started, Rodney. Now take off your shirt."

"I'm fine," Rodney protests.

In my best long-suffering voice, I say, "Are you or are you not the same man who was attacked by that alien rascal?"

Rodney straighten his body, apparently trying to hold onto a shard of dignity. "The 'alien rascal,' as you call the monster that assaulted me, simply twisted my arm and knocked me down. It's nothing to be alarmed about."

I raise my eyebrows. It's not like Rodney to overlook an opportunity to get sympathy and attention.

"Take off your shirt," I say, "Or I'll have you removed from duty."

He scowls. "You can't do that."

"I can," I assure him, crossing my arms in what I'm sure is a vain attempt to look menacing.

Defeated, Rodney lets out a breath and reluctantly removes his upper garment. "This is ludicrous," he mutters.

"No need to be shy, Rodney," I chuckle, "I've seen it all."

Once the shirt is off, I set to examining Rodney's injuries. Overall, Rodney is correct that his wounds aren't terribly worrisome. He does have some bruising on his ribs, though. I glance up at him. "I'm going to recommend to Weir that you take a few days off to let your ribs heal."

"Fine, fine," he says impatiently.

"Now let's see what else we have," I say to myself. I tilt Rodney's neck to one side so that I can examine some bruising on his shoulder. Narrowing my eyes, I mutter, "What's this?"

"I think I should lie down," Rodney says quickly, "My ribs hurt."

"Just a second," I say firmly. After taking a closer look at Rodney's shoulder, I look him directly in the eye. "Rodney," I say seriously, "Did that rascal bite you?"

Rodney's already red face turns deep crimson. "No, Doctor," he chokes, "Why would you ask that?"

"Well," I say, thumbing the bruise on his shoulder, "You've got a bite mark here."

"You mean that bruise?" Rodney's voice is a little higher than usual.

"It's a bite mark," I say. Leaning against my examining table, I explain, "Look, Rodney, if that rascal bit you, I'm going to have to run extra blood tests. I don't know if a tetanus shot will be effective, or if—"

"That savage did not bite me, Doctor. Is that clear enough?"

Shaking my head, I reexamine the injury. It's definitely a bite mark. "Rodney, you were bitten somewhere. If not on the alien planet, then where?"

Rodney licks his bottom lip and fixes his gaze on the ceiling. "In the throes of passion, Doctor."

Suddenly, it's my turn to blush. "Oh, of course. I see." I'm embarrassed to admit that the thought never occurred to me, though it should have. I suppose it's inevitable that some of us will pair off. We are in this for the long haul.

"You've taken my blood, Doctor" he says, "Run all the tests you like."

About then, Major Sheppard wanders in. "Hi, Doc," he says jovially. 'Have you found a way to cure him of his arrogance?"  
  
I grin. "I'm considering a lobotomy."

"Very funny," Rodney snarls.

Smiling, I turn back to Rodney. "Now, I have to ask, Rodney," I say, "Is your . . . friend from Earth?"

Rodney furrows his brow. "What are you talking about?"

I point at his shoulder. "Your friend."

Rodney glances self-consciously at Major Sheppard. "I, um . . ."

"Is there a problem?" Major Sheppard asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Rodney glares at him, and then at me. "I don't see that my physical relationships are any of your business."

"Relationships plural?" Sheppard says, crossing his arms lightly.

I glance between them. "He has a point, Rodney," I say, "And your physical relationships are my business. I have to know that you aren't bringing any diseases back to Atlantis."

Major Sheppard starts to cough violently.

"Are you all right?" I ask, concerned.

"I'm fine," the Major says, his face red from coughing.

I turn to Rodney. "Look, I'm not trying to invade your privacy, Rodney. But I do need to know if this young lady is from Earth."

Rodney again glances at Major Sheppard. "Um . . . this person is from Earth."

"Now," I say, "Was that so hard?"

"Are you using protection with this person?" Major Sheppard asks.

Glowering, Rodney spits, "Unless this person is in too much of a hurry."

Again, I glance between them. Major Sheppard is wearing a self-satisfied grin, and Rodney is glaring at him as if he's trying to burn a hold through the Major. Suddenly, it all hits me. I don't know why I didn't see it before.

Biting my lip to fight a grin, I say, "Major," I say, "I'm going to need to do a rectal exam, so if—"

"What?" Rodney practically roars. He jumps off the examining table. In a torrent of words, he says, "There's no way. This isn't warranted. Remove me from duty if you want."

I grin and glance at the Major. "All right," I say, "I guess you can take him home."

Major Sheppard winks at me. "Thank you, Doctor."

Not waiting for anyone's permission, Rodney immediately storms out of the infirmary.

Tugging on his bottom lip, the Major shifts uncomfortably. "So, Doc . . ."

"You can count on my discretion," I say, anticipating his question.

Major Sheppard nods. "Thanks, Doc," he says.

As the Major ambles down the hall after Rodney, I lean against the examining table, considering this new information. Rodney and Major Sheppard are a couple. Or perhaps they're just casual lovers. Although I got the definite sense that they are more than just lovers. No, I think they may have feelings for each other. I'll have to be sensitive to that in the future. They'll need extra reassurances if one of them is injured. And they'll need discretion.

I narrow my eyes. Perhaps I should've known. Rodney and Major Sheppard do tend to worry about each other. But honestly, the idea of a relationship never would've occurred to me if I hadn't seen that bite mark . . .

"Oh, perfect," I murmur to myself, as another little bit of information finally pierces my mind. A bite mark. Now I have to walk around knowing that Major Sheppard is a biter.


End file.
